Now and Always
by Frostybutt
Summary: Post Reichenbach. It's been three years since Molly has seen Sherlock, and helped him fake his death. Now, when Sherlock turns up unexpectedly, how is she going to react? How is John going to react? Rated T just in case.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Okay, so I honestly haven't written anything in a really long time, so I would love it if you reviewed, telling me what could be better, and what not!_

_**Disclaimer: **__I own nothing of this story, except maybe the occasional OOC and character. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss own this version of Sherlock, BBC owns them, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle owns the concept and the books written by himself about Sherlock and friends._

**Chapter One: Molly**

_I always knew it would end like this. I mean, he's become so predictable. But why Sherlock? Why did you do this? _

_My father had always told me I cared too much. Maybe that's why it hurt so much when he died. But this... This was different. But yet, maybe it was the same._

_Sherlock had come to me. Not anyone else. Me._

_..._

_"You do count. You've always counted, and I always trusted you. But you were right. I'm not okay." His deep baritone voice had startled me when I opened those lab doors. I looked for him in the dark, and found him, standing not too far away, and he looked upset. Tears seemed to be brimming in his eyes, and I felt compelled to help._

_ "Tell me what's wrong." I said softly, taking a step towards him. There was a moment of silence before his voice filled the air quietly. _

_ "I think I'm going to die." He said, in an almost simple manner. My breath had caught in my throat, and I took a deep breath before replying._

_ "What do you need?" I asked, noticing him taking steps towards me, and he ignored my question._

_ "If I wasn't everything you think I am, or I think I am, would you still want to help me? " He went on, still moving closer._

_ "What do you need?" I tried again, hoping he would answer. He stopped, took one step closer, so we were only an arms length away, and he said one word, and his eyes looked as though they were filled with some kind of realization._

_ "You."_

That was almost three years ago. I helped him fake his death. He even hid from everyone in my apartment. I often think of him, in those moments when I'm at home, and there's nothing to do, or even when there is something to do. I think about him all the time, as I imagine John to do the same. I haven't seen much of John in these past few years, since he's taken up to hiding in 221B. He occasionally goes to work, and that's when I usually see him, during my breaks, I always come up to see him. He still looks so beat up, bags under his eyes, and his clothes wrinkled. I sighed, blinking open my eyes to stare up at my bedroom ceiling. I often sit here in bed, just think of what was, and what ifs, and what could bes. Many of them are of Sherlock, and occasionally, I think of poor John. There's a orthopaedic surgon that I often see around him, says her name is Mary. She seems highly interested in John. They'd be good together. I smile a bit as I roll onto my side. I used to think the same about Sherlock and I, until that dreaded Christmas party. I then realized how improbable a relationship with him would be, especially when he determined that woman from... not her face. Then, he came to me, not Mycroft, ME, and he actually needed help. I don't know how many nights I sit here, ignoring the sleep that threatens to overtake me, and think. Not just think, but really and actually THINK. I recollect from over the years, I imagine, I analyze things that have been said, things that have been done. I groaned as I heard my cat Toby meowing at my door, his little claws scratching away at the wood.

I sighed and sat up, feeling the coolness of the air hit my legs and arms, as the t-shirt and shorts I wore to bed held no heat. My mousy brown hair cascaded down my shoulders in soft, natural ringlets, because I had no desire to look good anymore, the day was over. I shuffled over to the door, just as I heard Toby hiss and scamper off. My heart began to thud in my chest and I reached over to grab the umbrella hanging by my door, just incase. Toby never just hissed, it was too improbable. I slowly opened my door and peered out into the dimly lit hallway that opened into my living room. Seeing nor sensing anyone, I stepped out of my room and slowly crept down the hallway. I looked around my sitting room and kitchen, taking in every detail, making sure nothing was out of place.

"An umbrella, Molly? I'm sure if I had been a burglar, an umbrella wouldn't have done much." A hauntingly familiar deep voice came from behind me and I dropped the umbrella, and quickly spun around, my heart thudding in my chest. "Now it won't do much good, being on the floor." As soon as I laid my eyes on him, my heart stopped and I gasped.

"Sherlock?" I squeaked, my eyes wide, and I felt goosebumps travel up my arms. His pale eyes showed amusement, and his lips quirked upwards. "Why are you-?" I didn't even get to finish as I felt my legs grow weak and my eyes roll into the back of my head. The sensation of falling is interesting, and nowhere near as painful as the impact. The last thing I heard was a gasp of surprise, and strong arms wrap themselves around me.

"It's nice to see you too, Molly." I then realized how much I loved hearing him say that.

_ '...Nice to see you too, Molly.'_

_ Molly._

_Second Author's note: Aaah, I realize this is incredibly short! I'm sorry about that! I'm really busy most of the time... I should have the next chapter typed up soon, but I dunno, I've got lots of testing these next few weeks!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: I'm a lazy person. A very lazy person. So these chapters will probably never be as long as I want them to be. Also, these next few chapters may be a bit boring, as they should just be fillers and intros until I manage to add in some conflict. So, please read and review!_  
_Sorry for the slight OOC in this chapter ^^;_

* * *

**Chapter 2: Sherlock's Mission is Finally Complete**  
**Sherlock's POV:**  
Peculiar. I never did figure out why I chose Molly to see first. I could've seen John. John would've panicked though, thought he was going insane. Lestrade? Definitely not. I would've been arrested, in a worst case scenario. Especially if I had gone out into PUBLIC to do so. Molly just seemed like the reasonable choice. Molly. Ever since I had faked my death, Molly had appeared more than once in my mind. I had always pushed her away. But she always came back. I couldn't help but scoff at the possible thought of sentiment. Sentiment, as most would say, would be the most logical explanation, but I don't think so. Sherlock Holmes does not do petty human emotions like sentiment. I must have been sitting, thinking like this for longer than I had hoped, on Molly's couch, because when I opened my eyes, there was a blanket draped across me, and Molly was shuffling around the kitchen, most likely making coffee. I sat up slowly, and examined the room slowly. It hadn't changed much in my three year absence, but there were slight changes to the books on the bookshelf, and I then realised this was a new couch. Quite comfortable indeed. Molly set a cup of coffee in front of me, and settled into the armchair to the left of me, closest to the kitchen. She tucked her feet up and held the cup in both hands, sipping it slowly. Molly then noticed my eyes on her, and she looked away heatedly, a blush crawling up her cheeks. I couldn't help but smirk at her girly like embarassment around me, even after the month or so of me hiding in her apartment. It was almost peculiar. Again... I was using the word peculiar. How... peculiar. I huffed in indignation, and picked up my coffee, trying to ignore Molly's look of confusion. I took a small drink of my coffee and smiled. She remembered, even after all this time.

"It's how you like it, right? I mean, it's been a while, so I made what I thought it was and-" Molly was rambling. But I had to admit.. her rambling was... adorable. What? Adorable? No!

"Uhm, Yes. It's perfect. Thank you." I replied curtly, cutting off the argument I was having in my head. Molly gave a small smile, but her eyebrows were perched at a slant ever so slightly, as if she was concerned that I had said thank you.

**Molly POV:**

Was Sherlock alright? I mean, he said THANK YOU. He had only said that once before. Right before he had left for what I had thought was forever. Then he showed up, in my apartment, scared my cat off somewhere, since I had yet to find Toby, and he shocked me! I had thought I had imagined it, when I woke up in my bed this morning. I was, of course, wrong in my thinking as to when I came into my living room to find Sherlock in his almost signature thinking position, on my couch. That had indeed shocked me as well. I finally decided on throwing a blanket over him and making some coffee. I fed Toby, but he didn't come running, like usual. I sighed and sat back in the chair, and sipped my coffee slowly, thinking over what to say, and then noticed Sherlock seeming to have an internal argument. I couldn't help but barely hold back a snort as his eyebrows furrowed and he frowned. His head shot over to look at me, his eyes calculating and his frown remained.

"Is there something wrong, Molly?" He asked, almost dubious, his eyes seemed to narrow slightly as I smirked at his uncertainty of what I was thinking. Usually he could've deduced it... I set my coffee on the coffee table and readjusted myself.

"Well, you seem like... you're having an arguement with yourself. Now you're doubtful as to why I'm laughing, as if you think I know something, am remembering something, or have just now witnessed something firsthand." I said, now proud of myself for my bravery. Sherlock seemed shocked by my deduction, as if I was exactly right... I smirked once more, before stopping suddenly to the irritated look on Sherlock's face. He got up, and slowly walked over to me, staring me straight in the eyes, and taking hold of my wrist. My pulse gradually got quicker, flashing a smirk, Sherlock leaned in, and my pulse almost skyrocketed. Our lips were inches apart, and I could feel his warm breath on my lips. I swallowed heavily, and blinked slowly, trying to get a glance at the clock behind Sherlock. Finally realising what time it was, I pulled away from Sherlock and almost fell over the arm rest on the chair, cursing the whole way. I sprinted towards the bathroom, in a sudden panic that I was now running late for work. Never did I notice Sherlock's almost slightly pained expression as I hurried around my apartment, like he had needed something from me, and I had yet to give it to him.  
I stepped out of the bathroom to shriek as I saw Sherlock standing outside the door, looking more than ready to start launching questions at me. As for myself, since I was used to being alone, had forgotten my clothes... in my bedroom. My clothing condition didn't seem to bother him slightly, but I did catch him flashing a quick up/down glance before meeting my eyes once more. I tried to ignore the flush I felt on my face, and furrowed my eyebrows. Keeping my arms tucked against my towel tightly, I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes? What do you need?" I asked, trying so hard to keep the annoyance out of my voice. Sherlock seemed to freeze for a moment, as if thinking. He then took a slow step back and frowned. Shaking his head slowly, he replied softer than I had ever heard him.

"No... I don't need anything. Sorry for the misunderstanding." Sherlock then slowly retreated to the couch, where he began to do what looked like sulking, His back facing me, him staring at the couch. His arms seemed to be crossed, and he looked like a child who was throwing a temper tantrum. I laughed softly before crossing over to my bedroom, where I closed the door and dressed quickly, pulling my hair up into a ponytail. I went out into the living room once more, Sherlock still in the pouting position. I laughed and he did not move. His breathing was steady, and his face seemed relaxed, and I felt my eyes widen as I realized that the great and powerful Sherlock Holmes had fallen asleep. I tossed the blanket over him once more before putting on my coat and shoes before opening and closing the door behind me softly.  
Work is as boring as anything could be, especially now, due to the 'guest' at my house. All I could do was hope that he would still be there when I got home. Setting down my scalpel, I sighed and turned, looking at the clock across the room. I couldn't help but grin like a cheeky schoolgirl when I saw that there was only about two hours left of work. I finished up the autopsy with exceptional time, considering the circumstances. I cleaned up and went out into the lab, to finish up the paperwork. Alfred Jones, age 65, Cause of death, heart attack. The man hadn't been the skinniest, so I had assumed it to be a heart attack anyways, given his age. I finished the paper work and sat back, checking the clock once more. I cleared up the paperwork and carried it to my office, where I dropped it on my desk unprofessionally, and pulled on my coat. I almost left without my wallet and house keys, in the hurry I was in. I made my way from the morgue, and out of St. Barts, to where I stopped outside the door, and my stomach growled loudly. Sherlock won't be too upset if I get something to eat right? Besides, he may not even be there anymore. I blinked in the darkness of the street, barely illuminated by the street lamps. I hail a cab and as soon as I get inside, I give the cabbie directions to Speedy's, the only place to eat that I could think of. I pay the cabbie and step out, pausing in front of the shop, noting Mrs. Hudson, John, and Mary sitting at a table, John and Mrs. Hudson laughing at some joke Mary had made. I inhale deeply and step inside, the smell of food overwhelming me. I ordered two sandwiches, one for myself, and one for Sherlock, just in case. I thanked the cashier and began to dig through my wallet. John took this time to walk over to me and looked skeptically at my order.

"Large appetite, eh?" He grinned. I shook my head and smiled as well. John's smile was almost infectious, considering I hadn't seen it in a while. I suddenly was glad I ordered two cold sandwiches. Lies could be made over sandwiches.

"No.. Just ordering one for lunch tomorrow... I'm not quite sure if I can try and leave the morgue tomorrow... Lots of work to do." I said quite briefly, trying not to stare at the clock too much. I was getting really antsy.

"Are you in a hurry?" Mary called at me, a grin playing at her lips too. I paused for a moment, considering all my options before sighing.

"Yeah... Toby's gone missing and I need to find him before it gets too late." I said softly, trying to hide the guilt in my voice. I hated to lie, especially to these people, my friends. It wasn't completely untrue, but it was nowhere near the complete truth. John sighed and took a step back.

"Alright Molly. I hope you find Toby soon." John smiled once again, before retreating back to his table, where Mrs. Hudson and Mary were waving.

"Bye dear! I hope I see you again soon!" Mrs. Hudson said cheerily, but as an afternote, I could faintly hear, "What a nice lovely young lady." I smiled and made my way out to the street slowly, before hailing a cab and giving off the directions to my apartment.  
I get there, and it's already later than I had wanted to be. Cursing softly, I search for my keys, and awkwardly try to unlock my door. When I step inside, it's dark and I pat the wall, desperately looking for the light switch. Suddenly, a huge weight presses me up against the now shut door, grabbing my arms and what seemed like an arm pressed firmly, but not choking me, against my throat. A familiar deep baritone rung out against the silent darkness.

"Why are you here?" The voice said fiercely, and I feel my heart start to pound as I try to squeak my reply.

"Because... I live.. here?" I choked out, and the weight immediately lessened, and then the arms were wrapped tightly around me. I finally managed to reach the light switch and flick it on, just to become face to face with Sherlock's chest. He had me pulled flush against his body, crushing the sandwiches and crisps I had brought home. I managed to pick my head up and stare at him skeptically, before I realized that Sherlock was... crying? No. He couldn't be! Wait... He is! Sherlock's body shook slightly as he inhaled softly. He was silently crying. "Sherlock? What's the matter?" I asked softly, giving up on the idea of a sandwich, by dropping them to the ground to wrap my arms around him. He bent his head down to press it into the crook of my neck, where I could finally feel the slight wetness of his tears. My eyebrows furrow slightly as he mumbles something against my shoulder. "What?" I ask slowly, trying to make out something. He pulled his head away from my shoulder slightly, before clearing his throat.

"I thought something had happened to you." My silence must have annoyed him, because he continued. "I thought something bad had happened, because you didn't come home from work when you usually did. I tried to text you, many times, but you didn't respond. To any of them." A sudden realization hit me.

"I forgot about my phone!" I almost yelled, hitting my palm off my forehead, irritated at my stupidity. Sherlock pulled back so he could look at me, but not removing his hold on me against his body.

"You forgot it in the morgue, didn't you." It was more of a statement than a question and I scoffed. "Based on what you brought home, I have now made the conclusion that after work, you were hungry, so you went to Speedy's and bought sandwiches. Based on the amount, you either thought you would manage to get me to eat, or you planned on taking it to work tomorrow. And you're right, by the way." I looked at him, confusion spreading across my face. Sherlock smirked and leaned in closer. "I'll eat the sandwich." He brought his face closer to mine, our lips almost touching when.. my stomach growled again. Sherlock pulled away, his face expressionless, but his eyes held a mixture of annoyance and humour. I took a step back, blushing furiously, before picking up the food, now crushed beyond recognition, and brought it over to the table, dropping it. I shrugged off my coat and set it on the back of a chair, also setting my keys and wallet on the table. I had somehow managed to shrug off my shoes at the door, and was now pulling food out of it's wrappers and eating it unceremoniously. I paused for a moment, and held out the other sandwich for Sherlock, my cheeks full of my own. He took it with a wide smirk, and pulled a chair out for himself, and I then realized I was standing up. It was rather dark, since there was only one light on. There were shadows playing on all of the furniture, and I smiled a bit. It was nice, to be sitting here with Sherlock, even if it was just to eat sandwiches and crisps. I sigh as I finish up my sandwich, and look at Sherlock.

"So..." I start awkwardly, not knowing how this conversation was going to go. "When are you going to be leaving again?" Sherlock froze for a moment, having finished his sandwich before me, and was now leaning against the counter. He smiled slightly, looking at me.

"Whenever you decide to kick me out." He replied simply, and I was confused. My facial expression must've showed my confusion, because Sherlock smiled a bit more. "My job is done. I finished off the Moriarty Network." I could feel my face break out into a huge grin. I got up and crossed the kitchen in two strides, wrapping my arms around him. Sherlock grew rigid in my hold, but almost immediately responded to the hug, relaxing tremendously.

* * *

"So this means you can come out of hiding now, right?" I ask after seems like forever. Sherlock and I had managed to migrate to the couch, where I was sitting and Sherlock's head was in my lap, his eyes closed, and I had been absently running my hands through his hair for... what had ended up to be about forty five minutes. Sherlock opened his eyes, and looked at me. He seemed to shrug, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I know I should, but what will Lestrade say? What will John say? I mean, he's just getting back on his feet." Sherlock said slowly. I nodded, understanding the predicament.

"I think John would be happy to know his best friend is alive." I replied simply, and Sherlock looked at me with his own raised eyebrow. I smirked, then stifled a yawn. Sherlock seemed to freeze, then robotically sat up, turned to me, and then scooped me up in his arms, despite my cry of shock and protests. "Sherlock! Stop! What are you doing-MMPH!" Sherlock had carried me down to my bedroom and dropped me on my bed. His facial expression told me to keep quiet. I raised an eyebrow, and opened my mouth to speak, but Sherlock gave a glare.

"You need sleep." He replied simply, and turned to leave. I didn't want to sleep though, in fear that when I woke, Sherlock would be gone.

"Wait! So you're not leaving?" I pressed, hoping I already knew the answer. Sherlock turned and gave a slight smile.

"Only if you want me to." I shook my head, and his smile seemed to grow a bit wider.

"Since you're staying, I mean, well, the couch isn't all that comfortable, despite how new it is, but that's irrelevant, but I was wondering.." Sherlock cut me off.

"You want me to stay in here with you." He stated. I smiled slightly, feeling the blush creep up my face.

"Only if you want to."

* * *

_Hooray for crappy cliffhangers! LOL Sorry this chapter took so long, I'm an awful procrastinator, and I really wanted it to be longer than the last. I dunno... Tell me what you guys think!_  
_-Frostybutt_


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